


Marshmallow

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Interspecies Relationship(s), Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:02:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Papyrus make hot cocoa.  That's it.  The whole plot.  Very fluffy and domestic.  No gender pronouns for the reader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marshmallow

**Author's Note:**

> Can I just say that I LOVE hot chocolate? Hell, I love it so much that I named my username after it. It's sweet, it's best with cold weather (my favorite kind, btw) and you can hoard a ton of marshmallows into it.

Snowdin was a pleasant town.  The people were friendly, there were snowdog sculptures everywhere, and best of all, your adorable boyfriend and his brother were there.  The only thing that could put a damper on the place for you, was when it was windy.

 

You _despised_ the wind.

 

The cold was easy enough to deal with when it was still air, or just a slight and chilly breeze, which you actually enjoyed, but when it was blowing harder than a pornstar on a 9-incher, there was just no saving you.

 

“(F/N)!  MY LOVELY HUMAN PARTNER!  YOU ARE FREEZING!  YOU MUST COME INSIDE IMMEDIATELY!” Papyrus yelled as you stumbled up the walkway to the skeleton brother’s house.

 

After running out of money for the Snowed Inn, you admitted your problem to Papyrus, who immediately demanded you crash in his and Sans’s house.  Sans said he didn’t mind much, since Papyrus was over the moon for caring for his human partner, and you were easily amused by his jokes, so he said you could stay as long as you want.  You had been determined to at least help out around the house some, or bring home some dinero yourself, so after the entire house became cleaned (other than Sans’s sock, which you refused to move, simply out of principal), you went out job hunting.  

 

Unfortunately, there were very limited offers, since most shops were owned by families, but you managed to sway Grillbz by telling him you were bored out of your mind not doing anything, where he gave you a job of waiting tables and washing dishes.  Thankfully, everyone in town was a good tipper, and you were able to easily take Sans home if he ever got a bit too drunk.  The dogs seemed to tip the best, as you were always willing to give them a good pet and gave them the leftover rib bones.  

 

Stumbling into the house, you pulled off your shoes, and you set the groceries on the counter near the stove, and pulled off your coat, Papyrus flitting about like a worried hen over her eggs, taking your coat from you to presumably put on the coat rack.  Placing the groceries in their proper places, you hopped onto the counter nearby, as Papyrus trotted closer.  He still had to bend down a bit to give you a nuzzle of a kiss with how tall he was.  You smiled and rubbed your frozen nose into his jaw, making him screech an exclamation to you, as he pulled you closer.  “HUMAN!  YOU ARE FROZEN!  WE MUST WARM YOU!”

 

You chuckle, giving him a smiling kiss on his cheekbone, which flushes yellow-orange in your kiss’s wake.  You grin, tapping his broad chest to get him to back up, as you hopped down, and got the groceries you’d left out, for a reason.  “That’s why we’re making something to help with that,” you say, placing unsweetened cocoa powder, sugar, salt, vanilla extract, a bag of marshmallows, and whole milk on the counter.  “Get the milk and a pot out, cutie.  We’re making hot cocoa”.

 

He flushes more deeply orange at the cutie comment, and questions curiously, “WHAT IS THIS, ‘HOT COCOA’ YOU SPEAK OF?  IS IT A FOOD OF SOME KIND?  OR IS IT A HUMAN DATING CUSTOM LIKE THE ‘KISSING’ AND ‘NETFLIX AND CHILL’ THAT YOU TOLD ME ABOUT?”

 

You snort unattractively as you eye his hips in an unashamed manner as he bends down to get the saucepan, and grabs a gallon of milk from the fridge, and slams them on the counter in a surprisingly graceful way.  “Yeah, kinda.  A little bit of both, actually.  Hot cocoa and cuddles are sacred to humanity.  Very coveted.  Very intimate,” you say, hushing your voice near the end, as Pap, bless him dearly, looked more and more flattered and starstruck.  It was the sort of look that came from dogs when you brought out a tennis ball and told them they were a good boy, or from a 70 year old white guy fishing for cooter in a strip bar, and a stripper actually looks in their direction.

 

His voice is actually hushed from his usual loud announcing voice, and his tone is ladened with reverence.  “I am ready”.

 

You grin before a soft, “Good,” before you shout quickly, “PAP, SPOON ME!”

 

He moves behind you with lightning speed, and presses his chest to your back, awkwardly bending to press his head to the top of yours and gathering his arms around your abdomen.  “LIKE THIS, (F/N)?”

 

You snort and pat his cheekbones gently.  “Wrong spoon, babe.  I meant the utensil.  The big one?”

 

He leaps away with heroic bounds, and returns with a large, plastic spoon.  “OF COURSE, (F/N)!  I WAS MERELY JOKING WITH YOU….NYEH-HEH-HEH-HEH-HEH!”

 

“Of course you were, sweetie.  Now, hand me the cocoa, sugar and salt!” you say, filling the pot with milk, mixing the whole milk in for extra creaminess.  “You put only a little bit of whole milk in, Pap.  Too much is really nasty,” you say, as your boyfriend reappears, slamming the needed packages on the counter closer to you, and he leans over you, arms wrapping around your collar.

 

“CERTAINLY, (F/N)!  YOU ARE CERTAINLY AN OLD HAND AT THIS, AREN’T YOU?  YOU AREN’T EVEN USING MEASURING CUPS, HOW DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH YOU NEED?  IS IT A SECRET TALENT?”

 

You rock your head back against his warm chest, his scarf rubbing your nose, as you return to the task, taking the cocoa powder, salt, and sugar.  “Indeed: it’s called guesstimation.  Very tricky, but I am indeed an old hand”.

 

“THEN YOU’VE DONE THIS WITH… OTHERS THEN?” he says, arms tightening around you, as his tone sours slightly in envy; envy of others, you realize, probably feeling threatened.

 

“Mostly my parents,” you assure, his posture relaxing again.  “Never have with a boyfriend,” you say offhandedly, as he freezes a second time.

 

“YOU… HAVE ONLY DONE THIS WITH ME…?  YOU MUST TRUST ME SO, FOR US TO BE COLLABORATING FOR THIS HOT COCOA.  HUMAN!  I TRUST YOU AS WELL!”

 

You smile, kissing his humerus.  “I’m glad Papyrus.  I do trust you,” you say, nuzzling the arm.  You measure out the cocoa and sugar.  “Gonna need lots of these, okay, Pap?” you say, showing him how much you put in, having him stir.  “Stir very, very carefully.  The anticipation makes it taste better, true fact”.

 

“REALLY?” he says, with interest, and instead of the violent stirring he usually does with his pasta, he carefully stirs, with a slightly brisker stroke than needed, but not badly.

 

You nod, looping out of his arms, and getting the vanilla extract, before getting back in his arms and adding a tiny bit of salt.  “Yup.  The truest of truths.  Now, only add a LITTLE bit of salt.  too much and it won’t taste good,” you say, dropping it in as he confirms it.  “Slow down a bit- yup!  Perfect!  You’re a natural!” you cheer, and he preens under your praise.  You finger the vanilla extract with a look of contemplation.  Should you…?  Yeah, you had gotten the joke played on you by your grandfather, and it was pretty funny… You made your decision.  “Pap, hold on a moment, and look at me real quick.  It’s very important you listen to this”.

 

He hurriedly puts the spoon on the counter, and kneels, the only way he would be able to look you in the eye.  “YES, (F/N)?  WHAT CAN I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, DO FOR MY WONDERFUL PARTNER?”

 

You hold the vanilla extract up for him to see.  “I need you to promise me that you won’t ever, and I mean ever use this without me here.  It’s very strong, this stuff has decimated entire cities when misused, so you have to be very careful when handling it, okay?”

 

He nods solemnly and you have to fight hard to keep a straight face.  “REALLY AND TRULY, HUMAN?  IT IS SO SMALL-”

 

You cut him off with an overdramatic panicked covering of his mouth, as a worried shush escapes you.  “SHHH!  Don’t let it hear you say that, or it won’t work with us!”  You both stare at the bottle for a few moments, as it does nothing.  You sigh in relief, as you remove your hand from his mouth.  “Phew!  Close one!  Gotta be careful, Pap”.

 

You carefully measure out the needed amount of extract.

 

“Careful… careful… GOTCH’YA!” you say, before diving down, tackling Papyrus, as you both fall on the floor, your hand pressing him to the floor.  “FIRE IN THE HOLE!”

 

You both wait a moment, with baited breath, but as the cocoa does nothing but simmer, you breathe easy.  “Perfect.  Nice hussle, Papyrus”.

 

You both cheer and high-five as you have Papyrus stir it three more times (for good luck) and you take the ladle from him and send him to get two mugs.  He comes back with two of the largest mugs you’ve ever seen.  You pour them nearly full as slowly as you can manage.  Papyrus almost takes a drink, before you berate him and take the mug back.  “Papyrus, you overzealous lemon-licker!  You can’t just drink it, there’s no finesse!  I haven’t even put the marshmallows in yet!”

 

He hangs his head slightly.  “MY APPOLOGIES, (F/N).  THE ANTICIPATION IS THREATENING MY LIFE.  I MUST LEARN HOW IT TASTES.  IT SMELLS SO GOOD!” he cries.

 

You pat his cheek.  “Worry not, Pap.  No damage done.  You can put in the ‘mellas as compensation, then,” you say, wiggling the bag at him.

 

He takes them curiously.  “WHAT ARE THESE?  THEY LOOK LIKE TINY, SQUISHY SNOWBALLS,” he says, opening the bag.

 

You chuckle as he pulls one out.  “Try one, you’ll love it.  They’re awesome, promise”.

 

He bites one, and his face lights up.  “INCREDIBLE!  THEY ARE SO SOFT AND SWEET!”

 

You chuckle as he eats 3 more.  “Told ya.  Put a couple in the mugs with the hot cocoa.  Time to drink these bad boys”.

 

Papyrus, as it turns out, must be extremely good at Tetris, because he somehow managed to fit half a bag of marshmallows into two mugs.  You’ve never been more proud.

 

You haul yourselves to the couch, and you have him lay down so you can climb into his lap, like an oversized cat.  You almost purr like one too, when he kisses your forehead with his teeth.  You offer your mug to him.  “Cheers, babe”.

 

He clinks his mug to yours.  “CHEERS INDEED,” he agrees and you watch as he takes a hesitant first sip, swallowing an entire marshmallow in the process.  Holy shit.  His entire face lights up in wonder.  He looks like when he saw the moon and stars for the first time, it’s in complete awe and wonder.  He pulls back and there’s a little marshmallow bit on him.  “So… what do you think?  Worth the wait, right?” you prod, smirking with knowledge.

 

He can’t seem to speak for a few moments, stunned by the power that is hot cocoa, before declare it’s deliciousness.  “THIS IS POSSIBLY ONE OF THE MOST AMAZING THINGS INVENTED SINCE SPAGHETTI!  AMAZING!  I ESPECIALLY ENJOY THE FLUFFY WHITE SUGAR BULLETS!”

 

You chuckle.  “You would”.

 

He looks at you precariously, taking another large gulp.  “AND WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO IMPLY, (F/N)?”

 

“That you are a marshmallow,” you reply, slyly, patting his cheek and kissing under his chin.  “Soft, gooey, and sweet”.  Ha ha, yeah.  That’ll teach ‘em.

 

He pauses, thinking, while a bright orange flush takes over his cheeks in rapid invasion.  “TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE, MARSHMALLOW!  NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!”

 

_Holy fuck, your mad game skills have been rubbing off on him, you are so proud._

 

“OHHHH!  DAMN, SON!  You’re catchin’ on, babe!  That was mad game, up top!” you squeal, hand offered, and he collided his hand with yours in enthusiastic praise.  “Now, warm me, my hot cocoa!  Your marshmallow demands it!”

 

He curls around you more, places his jaw over your head, and pulls a thick blanket over you both.  “AS YOU WISH, MARSHMALLOW!  I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL WARM YOU!”

 

You spend the rest of the night like that, warm and full of hot cocoa.  He is warm and his scarf is wrapped over you both, just as you are both wrapped up in each other.  

 

Soft and sweet.

 

Heh.

  
Yeah, that was you two.


End file.
